Pocket Aces
by Bladestar123
Summary: Baam is a child who has yet to see a sky, so what meaning have stars to him?
1. Draw

"Rachel?"

The 25th Baam turned his neck slightly to look at the girl beside him. The only vision of his world, a blonde girl looked high at the ceiling.

"What's up, Baam?"

He craned his neck to look over her shoulder. "The ceiling, I think."

One pale hand went up to her mouth. She made a sound into it. "That's right Baam."

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Baam?"

"What's a ceiling?"

She made a reedy noise from her lips. "It's something like a...like a lid on a box...or...or a seal for a container or...no, Baam, you don't know what any of those are, do you?"

He thought about it for a bit. "I don't think you've ever talked about them before."

She made the noise again. It was a peaceful, pleasant noise. He found himself imitating it, flapping his lips gently.

"That's a hum, Baam."

"A hum..."

"That's right." She said easily. "It a noise you made when you're thinking. It tells me that you want to figure something out."

"Why are you making it then?"

"I suppose..." Her eyes returned to the, to the 'ceiling' again. "Well, I suppose an answer you don't understand is no good, is it."

Her eyes rolled down to meet his again, and Baam felt a thrill down his spine. Rachel so rarely met his eyes, but they were vivid in how wide they were. He found himself tracing the way they merged into her face, how every curve of her face cut into another, forming an odd picture. Curves moving and shifting, appearing and disappearing, shifting in patterns he could only occasionally identify or, even rarer, name. So much of it was alien to him, yet it was the only thing he could call 'familiar' at all. Moreso than even his own, the few times he caught sight of it in a pool of water. It made him uncomfortable, to realize he could no longer understand what it was saying to him.

Unbidden, words rose to his lips. "Rachel, do other people look like us?"

"Ye-n-..." She hesitated, searching his expression. "Yes. Yes, they look like us, Baam."

"Is there anyone that looks like you?"

Her lip curled into a shape Baam was unfamiliar with. It cast her into a far harder, darker expression, shadows appearing in the corners and edges of her face. "No. No, they're usually far prettier."

His eyes narrowed. That word seemed to make her angry. "What's pretty?"

The corners of her mouth softened, and Baam let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as her whole expression melted into the Rachel-face he was familiar with. "You'll know when you're older."

"Will I."

This time her mouth didn't tighten, but the shadows appeared on her face all the same. Baam didn't like it, but this time he didn't have the words to make it go away.

"You will. A hundred times over. You'll leave me far, far behind." She made little _whooshing_ noises as she mimed her hand rapidly leaving her vicinity. "Like that. So fast neither of us will even understand what changed."

"How could it be so sudden?!" He cried.

Her face turned away. "Beats me. Sometimes they just...fall away, you know."

Baam tried to scrabble closer to her, but a single finger to his forehead kept him away, she slowly turned back, a look of odd amusement on her face. "It can't be helped Baam."

"I don't want to get older." He muttered. "I thought I did-"

"-so did I." She cut in sadly. "But sometimes what waits for us isn't what we expect."

"What prevents us from finding out?"

"A..." Her face slowly craned upwards. "A ceiling, would be the closest approximation I guess." Her arms slowly raised, as though cradling something far larger than her to her chest. "Yeah. Okay. Baam, a ceiling is just what we call God's Will."

Baam slowly scratched his chin and hummed. "That doesn't really sound like what you were saying earlier."

She waved him away impatiently. "Don't sweat the small stuff Baam. No, what's important is that I'm right."

Baam nodded. "Got it."

She continued idly. "God's Will, get it memorized. God stops us from proceeding, from moving on or from seeing too much. God keeps us low and blocks our progress. Ceilings are just massive blocks of oppression."

"What's beyond them?" Baam asked softly.

"Stars."

The look on Rachel's face was rapturous.

"Stars. Infinite stars. Endless."

Baam didn't like that look. The sourness in his stomach curdled, and left him feeling sick and angry. He didn't like when she looked away, like she was leaving him behind. She talked a lot about how he would be leaving her behind, but he couldn't help but feel like he was the one to be abandoned. He wanted to tell her that, but he didn't have the words for it, and she would be able to talk him down. She always did; she knew words, so many words, so very very many that he'd never heard of! And every time he'd have to ask her to explain, and they'd be sidetracked with her explanation, and he'd forget to be angry and beg her not to leave him and then she'd be gone.

She turned to look at him, and it was the look he dreaded. The sad, empty look she'd started giving him recently. The one where she looked at him, but never saw him. She saw someone else standing in his place, someone taller, and maybe stronger, and bigger. Some other Baam that scared her and made her sad.

Baam wasn't sure he liked that other Baam.

But he wasn't sure he could blame that other Baam, not if he'd really been abandoned. Not if he'd been left in the cave alone.

He wasn't sure what would happen if God's Will were not breached to allow Rachel in ever again. But he had a feeling he liked the outcome about as much as Rachel did.

Couldn't she see the solution? Wasn't it obvious? She shouldn't leave him. They were both happy; why couldn't see?

Was she - he tasted the word on his lips - _stupid?_

He immediately felt bad for thinking it. It felt awful on his lips, some unspoken taboo breached that he feared would go unspoken. He opened his mouth to apologize, for what he couldn't word, but Rachel spoke first.

"I need to go Baam, it's late." She said softly.

His lips hardened, but he tried to force them into what Rachel called a _smile._ "Okay. Bu, uh, Bye..?"

Her lips curved into a smile similar to how he imagined his own looked. He liked it, but it was never around for long. "Yeah. I'll see you later Baam."

She'd crawled out and closed God's Will behind her before Baam found the question he'd wanted to ask.

 _What's Later?_

 **Another on/off project. One I have some ideas for.**


	2. Flop

By the time God's Will permitted Rachel through, Baam was already thoroughly sick of contemplating the nature of rocks. Perhaps had he continued, he would have found enlightenment in the endless forms the Earth provided, yet enlightenment in such stony silence interested him not a bit. So he got up with great eagerness, abandoning all prior thought, and welcomed Rachel with his whole heart.

And yet she did not return it. The smile she offered was complicated, sad and wistful all at the same time.

"Hello Baam."

"Hello Rachel." He echoed.

Something suddenly drew his eye, something held tightly in her left hand. It was…long, like his arm, but bore no texture he recognized, save…

"Ah, it's a branch."

"That's right, this is a branch." Hefting it, she proffered it to Baam. "It's _your_ branch, now."

Baam blinked. " _My_ branch? What for?"

"You're going to learn to use it." Her eyes sharpened to a determined shine. "Baam, answer me honestly. If being strong meant losing people you care for, would you pursue it?"

"Of course not!" He shot back, horrified.

"Even if it meant lacking the strength to protect your other friends?"

"Of.." he hesitated. "Can't I have both?"

Her eyes warmed a little, and she giggled slightly into her hand. "You can." The other hand rose and pointed at the branch. "That's why you're going to learn how to use this."

Baam hefted it in a two handed grip, the weight pulling at his shoulders. Gnarled and whorled, the branch was heavy and somewhat painful to hold. The thick object pulled at the skin of his palms, resting painfully on his bones and tightened the skin under his fingers uncomfortably. They stuck to it too, somehow suckered to the uneven surface. And yet, behind its weight lay an uncomfortable malice, the implicit promise of harm.

"Will…will this make me strong?"

"No, not really." His surprised eyes made their way to her steady ones. "You'd be better off without it, to be honest. Incomparably stronger."

"Then why…"

"Baam, do you know what the scariest way to fight someone is?"

He bit his lip and hummed, chewing on it a little in a very similar manner to how Rachel had done a few days ago. "...murderously?"

She snorted involuntarily, doubling over with a reddened face. She stayed like that for a few seconds before straightening up with an obvious warble to her voice. "That-That's true Baam. That is, in fact, the most dangerous way to fight."

His face brightened, and he felt Rachel's hand come up to gently brush his hair. He fought not to lean into it, as he had started making Rachel sad when he did. Instead, he held very very still, focusing only on the warmth of her hand on his head. The only touch he could ever remember feeling.

"The scariest way to fight, Baam, is from a distance." Her voice said absently. Baam tried to focus on her words, somehow knowing they were important to her, yet the warm haze pulled him back. "Far, far away, from where they can barely make out your face or see your expression. Where no one can tell who you are from what they see."

The warm haze drained away, leaving behind a sober apprehension.

"Better to fight with this." Her voice was trembling. Baam didn't want to look up. "Far, far better to fight this way. Charging in face to face, where you can see them and they can see you, and you can talk to them like you always…"

 _Always what?_

"Even if you're weaker Baam, try and fight with this. I-I don't have the...I can't, but _you_ , maybe _you_ can." Her hand was heavy on his head. "So run up to them Baam. Like you're going to embrace them, run up and have it out. That way, you can find the acceptance you've wanted."

The branch was nearly crushing now in weight; the unspoken threat it held far greater than before. Baam felt it pulling on his arms, yanking them down as if to tear them from his shoulders.

"So what is this, then." He said, slightly hoarse.

Rachel stepped back, and Baam would have given nearly anything for even that uncomfortable warmth to return. "It's a needle."

Baam looked at the branch. Spiny, somewhat split, rough and somewhat brittle at the tip. "This is what a needle looks like?"

"No." She replied, still somewhat flustered. "No, uh, but it's supposed to emulate one."

He cocked his head. "Really?"

She nodded in slight relief at his acceptance. "Yes. I thought about a sword, but cutting and bleeding…" she swallowed a little. "It doesn't suit you. So take a needle like that and beat them with it until they listen to you."

"I thought needles were pointy though."

"Most are. This one is blunt so you don't poke your eye out."

Baam's hand involuntarily flinched as he slapped it over his face.

Rachel burst into sudden laughter as he stood there, one hand covering his eyes, other trying and failing to lift the heavy branch.

He felt himself redden in shame, but the pleasure at her renewed joy washed it away. Suddenly the branch felt lighter, and he could almost lift it up. He wanted to do this now, to show her. To make her happy.

Both hands went down to grip it, one hand over the other, and he slowly lifted the tip to eye height, before lurching forward and letting it fall tip-first to the earth.

"Like this?" He asked.

"You nailed it!" She cheered, giggles fountaining out of her.

He felt giddy, the infectious sound bolstering his strength. He lifted it up again, this time the tip going far over his head, before he swung it down. However, as it went down, he felt some strange pressure grab the stick from the other end, sending it wildly off course and at an arc ti his side. The tip exploded into a shower of little splinters as it hit the ground, sending him spinning to the side where he fell over.

He coughed roughly, dust and grit rising from around him. "Did-did I do it right?"

Her laughter redoubled, exploding from her chest in a giddy wave.

He sprang to his feet, seizing the branch with an already growing fondness and raising it with reckless speed overhead. "I'm doing it!"

Rachel applauded and cheered every time he raised it and let it fall, tears springing to her eyes as they both cavorted and screamed raucously.

"Did I do it?!" He yelled, drunk on his own emotions.

"You did!" She laughed and laughed and laughed endlessly and it was all Baam could do to keep going, to never let that sound ever end.

Swing, thrust, scream, fall, yell, rise, again.

* * *

"Did you see that?!"

"You raised it so high!"

* * *

"I'm doing it Rachel!"

"I'm watching, keep going!"

* * *

"Am I still doing it right?"

"I've never seen better."

* * *

"You're still watching?"

"Always. I promise."


	3. Turn

"Sh-in-soo." Baam sounded the word out. "What is it?"

Rachel, sitting against the wall beside him, turned her head down to meet his gaze. "Mm? It's something important, but I'm not clear on the details of how it works."

That stuck him for a loop. Rachel had always had an answer for everything, even a perfunctory one. But… "Nothing?"

She giggled a little, at that. "Sorry Baam. The mechanics aren't all that clear to begin with and…" she winced and looked away.

Baam felt the flames of curiosity tickle his heart, but forcefully suppressed it. Turning, he instead grabbed the stick beside him, warm grooves rubbed into it by his hands, and began swinging it idly. The sound it made as he pulled it through the air was sharp, and it helped him try to hide the fact that he was occasionally peeking back at Rachel's face to see if she was happy.

She was.

The soft smile she tried to keep hidden, nevertheless warmed him, down to the tips of his toes. He turned back slowly, trying not to show that he'd seen, trying to refocus on what he was doing.

"I guess if I had to describe it." Her voice sounded thoughtful. "It would be like the ocean."

"Ocean?" Baam grunted between swings. "What. An ocean?"

"Put the stick down Baam." She laughed. "I taught you manners didn't I?"

"It's a needle." He said petulantly, letting go with his left hand and letting his right fall to his side. The stick gently bumped into his ankles, swaying in some hidden breeze from above. "And you said practicing with it was more important than anything." To be honest, he didn't _really_ think that, but he wanted what he was doing to be as important as the weight Rachel had placed on him learning it. He wanted her to see him practicing and…

And…

Feel happy maybe?

He wasn't really sure _what_ he expected from her. But he _wanted_ it.

Her laughter subsided to tiny giggles, but Baam refused to turn around, fearing that her happiness would break his surge of petulance over it's knee. He _wanted_ to be spiteful, he _liked_ it.

"Not around-"

"Not around friends, I know." He grumbled turning around.

The goofy grin on her face surprised him into slight laughter, and the grin was shortly mirrored on his own face.

Ah, man, he'd _wanted_ to be spiteful.

He staggered over to the wall and slumped against it, slowly sliding down until he was beside Rachel. She hummed in thought a little as he met her eyes.

"The ocean, to answer your earlier question, is…" she seemed to wrestle with the words, forehead wrinkling a little with every passing second. Baam watched, fascinated, as it bunched up into little patterns.

He'd never tell Rachel, but faces fascinated him. He'd only ever seen the two, of course, but of the sample size the differences were _excruciating._ He'd watch hers as long as he could, and watch his own whenever enough water dripped down to puddle. He'd make expressions endlessly in the reflection, astounded by the malleability of his own features. Like some beast behind his face moved by his wishes to convey his thoughts. It felt unnatural after some time.

"-pressure scales with the depth, so if you go too deep too fast you get the bends-"

But Rachel's had never felt like that. Her face seemed less dynamic, but seemed to convey so much more when she wanted it to. He didn't understand how, didn't _quite_ get the nature of how emotional communication worked. Rachel used a lot of big words like "pheromones" and "empathy" but all it boiled down to was that Baam was bad at it and felt bad for being so.

"-blue because of the way light is absorbed by the surface-"

Oops, he'd forgotten to listen to her. Quick Baam, think.

"-but how does it make you _feel_ Rachel." He interrupted.

She shot him an odd look, that morphed slowly into thoughtfulness.

"Awe, I suppose." She said slowly. "There's really no comparison that does it justice."

"That's good." He said firmly, horribly embarrassed that he'd failed to absorb her passion and hoping she wouldn't realize.

She hummed sing-song, a slow sound that made his eyelids pull slightly. "You'll just need to see for yourself." She mused. "Telling you about it is pretty meaningless, you need to make up your own mind."

Rachel grinned a little, a hint of sadness tugging her lips down, but happy for him nonetheless.

Sometimes he barely understood the words coming from her mouth, and other times they were everything he knew.

The lips parted into a clean smile. "Someday Baam, you'll leave this little cave."

"You say that a lot." He said languidly. "But I still don't really know what that means Rachel. You said I'd never go through the Hole."

"You'll be free Baam. One way or another." Her voice was so soft he could barely hear it, but her words run like bells in his mind, deafening, echoing. _Free, free, free_ they slowly tolled, and his whole body shook from the impact.

Every time, every _single_ time, the words never failed to thrill him.

"When?" He asked softly, the word so familiar to him that he saw it in his sleep.

"Not long." The words were casual, belying the importance those words held for both of them. "Only a few days more."

Baam thought about that.

—-

 _"_ _But why now?" He asked, somewhat pleading._

 _"_ _Because you've all grown up Baam."_

 _"_ _When?" He asked, lips numb, tongue heavy. All of him was heavy, head lolling, arms like dense wood hanging off of him. "When did I grow up?"_

 _"_ _You've always been growing up." Rachel's words were matter-of-fact. "Everyone someday steps out of a cave of their own making and learns to see the world around them."_

 _Something she'd said caught his mind like a burr, one of those tiny little spinies Rachel picked out of her clothes and cursed at, that sort of rolled around in his mind lancing his other thoughts. "Everyone has a cave?" He asked. "Everyone is alone as I am?"_

 _She turned puzzled eyes briefly heavenward, as though hoping God's Will would provide an answer. "Ye-yes, well, in a sense, the cave of self-identity exists within everyone's heart, and walking out of it is a metaphor for the first step to social acceptance and the development of empathy-oh, that's not what you meant." She held up a finger, blinking resignedly.  
"Actually never mind."_

—

"What happens when I walk out of the cave?" He asked. "You never got around to telling me what to expect when I was _free_."

Rachel groaned slightly. "Baam, do you know what a _metaphor_ is?"

"Comparison?" He asked uncertainty.

She cursed quietly. "I guess metaphor doesn't really make sense until you have comparative imagery to allude to." She grumbled. "It's _kind_ of a comparison I guess. Kind of."

"Then I get it." He said triumphantly.

She repressed a smile. "But in your case." A hand went up, and she giggled gently into it, still hiding her mirth. "In your case, it's a little more literal, isn't it?"

"Then what's being compared."

She bit her lip again. "Mmm… perspective?"

Baam squinted at her slightly. "Rachel, that makes no sense. We both see the same thing." He pointed at the wall. "Wall, stone, imprisonment." Pointed at the floor. "Stone, earth, ground, support." Pointed at himself. "Person, man, prisoner." Pointed at her. "Person, woman, help, kindness." Pointed at the ceiling. "Top, lid, will, cruel judgement, stone." He folded his arms. "See? What's different."

"But _I_ told you these things."

"Yes." Baam confirmed. "And I agree."

Rachel thought about it for a second, evidently trying to piece together his flawless logic. "Baam, how many people do you think exist outside."

Now, _that_ was a question. How was Baam to provide an answer to that? Rachel had described people as coating heaven and earth with a thin patine of their existence, simple existing _everywhere_ in numbers and crowds impossible to imagine. When he went free, he would be able to go _anywhere_ , Rachel told him, but no matter where he went _someone_ would already be there. How to numerically define so immense an existence as that, so _weighty_ a presence.

It was surely a number at the limits of his very imagination.

"A _hundred."_ Baam offered.

Rachel snorted _violently_ , coughing and laughing a little. " _Close_." She gasped. "Very close Baam, but somehow even more than that."

More than a _hundred_ people. What did that even _mean_. He'd never even seen more than ten things at once, if that! The insects and ants, maybe, went that high, but those were _insects_. They crept and crawled everywhere, in and out, always deceptively more than they seemed.

"Are people like _ants?"_ He asked, actually slightly nauseated by the sheer volume of _existence_ presented to him.

Rachel seemed to just give up, rolling around and shaking with laughter. Baam watched her, slightly bemused and unsure how to respond to this outpouring of mirth. He had the distinct feeling that there was some grand joke, just out of reach, that he couldn't see.

The laughter slowly petered out, and Rachel reached up, and gently clasped his shoulders. "Never." Her head fell to her chest as her laughter bubbled up again, when she looked up, her slightly asymmetric features were blotchy, and her eyes red-rimmed. "Never say that once you leave Baam." She said. Her smile was also slightly crooked but it...suited her. "It generally means something very different from what you intended."

He felt a little frustrated, somewhere deep in his chest. What did that _mean_?

"Perspective is like that Baam." She said slowly, light flickering in her eyes. "No one can _really_ imagine how many people are out there, so everyone feels like there's something out there that they're missing. So they hold to what they have, and fight to prove that what _they_ think is right, so they don't have to _lose_ anything either."

"But then, how will I know who's right?" He asked uncertainly. "If there are too many people that haven't seen the same things, who's worth listening to?"

Rachel giggled and poked him on the nose. "I suppose you'll need to go out there and see for yourself."

"But-" he frowned. "How can I possibly speak to so many people. There's too many. Too many."

"It's not _that_ many." She said easily, leaning away from him, letting his shoulders go and placing her hands behind her on the floor, propping herself up. The places she'd been holding felt distinctly colder. "They're not all in the same place or anything."

"Then where are they."

Rachel swung a loose hand around her head. "Around, or something. They're, uh…" She looked slightly flustered. "They're always _there_ , right? Just not...visible? Or in the current vicinity?"

"That sounds terrifying." Baam said, slightly awed that Rachel seemed so unaffected by such an overwhelming prospect of having invisible people around simply staring at her and not making themselves known.

"I mean sure." Rachel's face looked a little pinched. "Lots of people are scared of crowds and stuff. But groups aren't _so_ , like, scary. You'll come around."

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that." Baam insisted. "How can you know what they're doing while you can't see them?"

"Well, you can't." Rachel said frankly. "But that's also kind of the point. Everyone's simply living their own lives."

What a bizarre concept.

"They'll come by, and when they do, try and hear them out." Rachel continued.

Baam wrinkled his brow again, thinking. "But what about me?" He asked. "Who hears _me_ out?"

She shot him a slightly puzzled look. "Everyone."

Hey, now.

" _What?_ "

"Well sure. Nothing is one-way Baam. If someone shares themselves with you, then you need to share yourself with them."

Baam felt the faint thrill of distress in the back of his mind. What could he possibly share with someone who spent their material and immaterial lives _doing things_? What did he, little Baam, have that they didn't?

"Your thoughts." Rachel listed. "Your emotions. Your impressions, and ideals, and aid, and hopes…"

"Me." Baam echoed. "It doesn't seem like all that much, really."

Rachel paused, giving him an odd look, lips twitching. "Did you just call me 'not all that much'."

 _Rachel talking Rachel laughing Rachel explaining Rachel with finger in the air Rachel thinking Rachel demonstrating Rachel jumping Rachel scratching her head Rachel rubbing her face Rachel booping him on the nose Rachel angry Rachel sad Rachel apologizing Rachel forgiving Rachel lazy Rachel tired Rachel hungry Rachel lost in thought Rachel finding solution Rachel thinking of something clever_

"There's plenty of you there." He assured.

Rachel gave him a dull-eyed look, smile quirking. "I guess so. Anyway, so the point is-"

She hesitated suddenly, finger paused in the air.

Baam tilted his head. "Rachel?"

"Baam." She asked in an odd voice. "Do you remember what we were talking about?"

That paused him. What were they talking about...

Baam furiously thought. He recalled several emotional highs, but as the conversation continued it's tangential path, the conversation had drifted out of mind.

"Not sure." He said, slightly uncertain.

"I feel like this one was especially important." She said, slightly frustrated. "Like I was trying to say something important until we got distracted. I definitely started with something important."

"If we don't remember, how important could it really have been?" Baam said wisely.

Rachel thought about that.

"Guess so." She admitted.


	4. River

**The ship in my heart is a vast one, the Captain once said to me, as upon the deck we stood rained hellfire and brimstone. The ship was not the one we sailed, though he claimed that over time the two had slowly become one and the same. A man could not sail the waves without falling in love with the deck below his feet. So it was, that he and I found ourselves the last men aboard, all the rest having set sail away. Perhaps another day, he might have claimed to have compromised his vision in the process, but tonight no such thoughts bore he. The rigging caught slowly aflame, and he wept as though it were his wife and child searing in the breeze. O' captain, said I to he, as we beheld madness, sail these waves beside me-**

"Rachel, why do you say that I'd never think a certain way?"

Rachel turned to look at him, finger pausing halfway down the hand-scrawled page. She blinked, startled, as he stood defensively in front of her. His third needle hung loosely in his grip, faintly bloody all the way down it's length. Still, he held it up, crushed and twisted in his grasp. She blinked slowly, taking him in. "What?"

Baam fidgeted a little, embarrassed that he'd interrupted storytime.

Her forehead faintly creased. "Baam, I've been reading _The Voyage of Eurasia_ for an hour now. You usually love this one, what's wrong?"

"It was what you said earlier." He mumbled. "It stuck in my head."

She looked slightly lost to him, sliding the book to the side. "I'm not sure I follow."

"You did!" He insisted, stronger. "I remember it!"

Rachel slowly closed the book, placing a scrap of fabric between the loose pages, and folding it shut. Placing it to the side, she turned to him fully, golden eyes shining like mirrors, emotions shuttering behind a blank face.

Baam hesitated. He shuffled and waffled. He dithered and wavered and hedged and hesitated, all sorts of vacillating occurring until no further words Rachel taught him could come to mind and he could tolerate her stare no more.

"I mean, it doesn't _really_ bother me or anything..."

" _Baam._ "

"It does." He said morosely. "But it shouldn't."

"Mhmmmm. Oh?" Her face didn't change, but it somehow still twisted into polite curiosity. How she did that, yet still seem to tease him, he didn't understand. He could _tell_ nothing about her had changed, he'd memorized the way her face twisted itself so long ago, yet the impression was completely different. She was definitely aware of it, however, if the way she had folded her hands into her lap was any indication. "Perhaps you should start by explaining what you mean?"

He straightened unconsciously. "You said it was like me to not think something. That it suited me not to think a certain way."

She seemed distinctly amused. He could tell. He couldn't before, but he could now, she tried to hide it but he could see her eyes creasing and her lips twitching. If he told her, she might even be proud of his insight, but then she'd change the subject and he'd forget he was meant to be upset at all.

"So I did, perhaps."

"But it's not true. I'm certain."

"Oh?" She was grinning now. She wasn't trying to hide it anymore. She didn't see a reason to. Had she been baiting him? How mean. She was mean, surely, if such a thing were to exist here. Was this bullying? It tripped all the warnings Rachel had given him, but surely she knew what those indicators were and thus wouldn't actually trip them if she was bullying him? He felt faintly indignant, that such a thing was in question, as Rachel was surely the kindest in all the world, but also she was cleverer than him and thus could still put into question whether or not that kindness was being exercised at all. In the end, he was utterly unsure, which warranted an entirely neutral response. Perhaps he would be 'petulant' and simply refuse to answer her. That would solve it.

She chuckled and curled her legs up close to her chest, huffing and placing her chin upon her fist, elbow tucked into the crook of her knee. She sat like that, openly amused, and looking at him.

"Please?"

His will crumpled like bark. Well, _now_ he had to answer. She'd said please. That was simply good manners.

"You said I was kind because I'd never think to hurt someone emotionally to stop them from acting a certain way. It's not true, because I thought of it." He informed her primly.

"You thought of the thought I told you you'd never think on account of me claiming you'd never think it?"

"Yes." He said finally, sadly. "And now I'm not a Baam that wouldn't think that. I'm a Baam that _would_. I can't un-think it, the thought exists."

She was giggling now, and that was simply uncalled for.

"Baam, that doesn't make you a worse person." She said gently.

"But it does!" He cried, deeply frustrated. Didn't she see?! She'd followed his logic so far! "You said I was a good person for _never_ thinking that! The reverse has to be true! How can you have faith in that?"

"Oh Baam." She smiled gently, and patted the earth beside her. He sat slowly, reluctantly facing her. She looked at him, and tilted her head, allowing him to speak.

"Am I supposed to lie to myself that it isn't true? Do I deny that you told me I was good because of that?" He said lowly, frustrated with himself.

He leaned back, and waited for a response. She sat there for a few minutes longer though, staring into his face like it held answers of its own. Silence fell for a second.

Rachel suddenly reached out a hand, startling him, and patted the stone floor beside her. He slowly sat down, comfortably leaning against the wall, yet regretted that he could only make out her features in profile now. He chose to sit halfway, twisted to wholly face her. In the dim light, she remained bright. Her hair caught the light like his never could. Petty envy, something else Rachel had casually claimed was beneath him, something else to feel guilty about. He'd only ever wanted to be closer to her, more similar to her, closer than anyone else ever could be.

Her amused smile filled out, fleshed into something kinder.

"Why are you scared?"

" _I don't want to hurt anyone._ " He said softly.

There. That's all it was, at the core of it. He could see that. He just didn't want to hurt Rachel. He never wanted to drive anyone away.

"This is the first time you've ever confronted me about it." She sounded pleased, fond and tired, worried and contemplative. "You chose to learn of your own accord."

Had he? Surely he'd come to her before? "But-"

"Baam." She said bluntly, eyes snapping to his and smile fading. "The knowledge of something wrong is never a crime. All it does is remove the right to choose. The statement, or idea, that 'you would never know something' is simply an extension of my belief that you wouldn't ever choose to hurt someone if you could avoid it."

Baam blinked.

"It's that simple?"

"It's that simple." She replied easily.

"Then how can you believe that."

"Faith." Her voice grew mellow, richer in depth than his by half. Wistful in measures. He knew her so much more than he'd ever believed, but she was still such a mystery to him. Would he sound like that? If he knew what she did, what would he sound like? What would he see?

For one terrible moment, he wished. He _wished._

 _"_ _...You'll leave me far, far behind." She made little whooshing noises as she mimed her hand rapidly leaving her vicinity. "Like that. So fast neither of us will even understand what changed."_

He threw it away. He didn't need such a desire.

"Then why did I need to know?" He pressed, shaken. "Why even mention it."

"It's never the lack of knowledge that defines the measure of a man." She said firmly. "Only the growth of a child."

Could he believe that? There was wisdom there, but he wasn't wise enough to see it.

"Am I an adult?" He asked uneasily. This wasn't something that had ever come to mind. After all, adults had many, many responsibilities. The only thing he'd ever held himself responsible for was Rachel's happiness. Where was the rest? Would it appear?

"Not yet." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can stay a child for a little while longer, Baam."

"Only a little bit?"

She smiled sadly. "It's all the time we can afford."  
 _Then why focus on it?!_ he wanted to cry, frustrated. It was the punctuation to every sentence, the undercurrent to every thought. It was the only thing Rachel was ever scared of, but as she trembled before him, he found that he was scared of the answer.

Perhaps there was no answer. Perhaps there was no solution, no way to overcome such a fear. All he could find was a way to cope. But there wasn't even a way to do that. Not a good one. Not one he could see. And Rachel, she didn't know either.

As he sat beside Rachel, both consumed in thought, fears and worries dancing between them like firelight, it continued to trouble him. Long, long into the endless night.


	5. Ante

Distance. The word meant so little to him, the length of precisely 315.5 handspans.

315.5 handspans. The measured distance to the very mouth of God's Will upon his lonesome self. Such was the measure of distance. The farthest reaches of earth.

How then, could Rachel feel so distant while she stood beside him? Every day, she felt as though she slipped farther, tumbling farther and farther away in his eyes, even though she stood even closer than she ever did.

But then he made her laugh, a giggle that rang like the bells she spoke of with fondness.

It set Baam's heart at peace, every time she looked happy. She grew close to him once more, remembered that he still remained beside her, than in whatever fantasy she'd conjured for herself.

But then she spoke as she did now-

"It's time." Whispered sadly, an eternity away.

-and it all fell away.

Rachel, as always, was correct.

And then he turned and understood why.

Before him, the path lay forwards. An opening not even the will of God contained, a simmering, humming gateway that called to him from somewhere deep within.

All, behind a single wooden door. It was already open. He'd already opened it.

He turned to Rachel, and knew that this was the end. Her hand came up, and cradled his jaw, and despite his promises to himself, he leaned into the touch.

The light was too bright. Too bright for this little cave. He couldn't see Rachel's face. It cast all her features in shade.

"Let's go." He said simply, and held her hand.

Together they walked forward, steps light and easy, until he'd pushed right through the shine and into beyond it, and he realized the hand he'd grasped so tightly had already slipped away.

He stopped. The precipice lay below his feet, not a step ahead, but he'd stopped in time. Unbidden, heat coursed down his face.

"I won't be going with you Baam." He heard from behind him. And he understood why, just as he knew she would pull away. It was the only reason he hadn't blindly walked on.

She'd never once spoken of joining him. Of walking beside him. She'd always said they'd be together forever, but never once had she mentioned herself when the future danced through her mind.

Perhaps she'd never noticed. Perhaps Baam had understood long before she herself did.

He wept bitterly, hot tears soaking into his shirt.

Why had she pushed him to this point? Why had she tried to send him off wordlessly?

He turned, the roar of some unknown monster crashed over him, some vast thing choking his words even as he tried to make out her expression. Perhaps this was the ocean, he thought, as he felt himself drift away. He was drowning, and his light already seemed so far away.

"I thought maybe I could, this time. Help you, guide you. I could show you the right path, the best friends, and you could be happy. You'd never need to be sad again. You'd never fail."

He saw a gemstone fall from heaven, but his arms were too short to catch it.

"But that would be a lie. No child has ever grown up smothered like that, and you deserve far, far more than someone like me."

 _I want to go with you, Rachel. I don't need any of these friends. I just wanted these days to continue forever._

"Grow up Baam, bigger than anyone. Find something precious worth protecting, and find people worth sharing it with. I know you will, you've always been that sort of guy."

The distance between then was larger than 315.5 handspans. The farthest he'd ever seen her. Her face was even more shaded from here, her bangs sweeping low across her face. Too far to push away, too far to even make out her hands clenched on her skirt.

But he could still reach her. Damn the world and damn the door, he could still try.

"I WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

The sound tore at his throat, but she looked up slowly, and he knew he'd reached her after all.

She slowly raised a hand, and pointed it at God's Will high above.

"Then climb, Baam. Higher and higher. Make friends, because no one can climb alone. Get strong, 'cause no one can hold the world. Get to the top. Grow up big and strong so you understand everything I've told you and everything you'll learn, and you'll be fine."

' _Will you be there?_ ' He wanted to ask, but he felt a great darkness coming over him.

"Everything in the world is at the top of the tower, Baam."

Her hand came to rest upon his chest, lingering and fond, and he tipped past the edge.

Ah. He realized at last.

She was setting him loose. This was the ship of his soul, and he was setting sail at last. Just like Rachel's stories.

He was going to be free, at last.

And The 25th Baam fell backwards through the door of the Tower of God, and the cycle wasjoined.

' _I'll find you Rachel. And then, we can be together again. This, I choose of mine own free will.'_


	6. Reveal The Hands We're Dealt

My fingers slowly get go, one by one. Baam's eyes were fixed on onwards. He didn't know, perhaps didn't _remember_ , but perhaps it was better that way. He'd remember a drop, but he'd thank me for it this time.

 _I looked around wildly. Stone. Water. Accursed shinsoo, again again again. A grotto, deep below the earth, lit by orange candelabras, casting my form in shadow against the far wall._

 _"_ _Why am I here?!" I howled, anguished. My shadow was exaggerated in surprise like an accusation. All it did was remind me that I was elsewhere now. My stars! Gone! Torn from me!_

 _"_ _Well now."_

 _I whirled around, and realized where I was. The immaculately pleased features would have given it away regardless._

 _"_ _This one, I never expected to see again." He whispered. His lips tore apart, smile curling about his eyes._

 _"_ _Headon." The name fell from my lips like a curse._

 _"_ _Hello Rachel. How were the stars."_

 _How to describe that endless vista? The endless reach, the unfathomable depths? The terror that had buckled my legs and sent me scrabbling? The fear as I clung to the floor like an anchor, as though I'd fall away into that void?_

 _"_ _Beautiful."_

 _I'd wept. Endlessly. Even my tears had been inexpressably beautiful in their reflection._

 _"_ _Was it worth it?"_

 _I had been alone there. Alone to sit and ponder and think and simply absorb everything, freedom and time like no one had ever had. To think about what I'd done._

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _"_ _And yet." The Guardian spread his arms, encompassing the whole of his abode in that swathe. "And yet, you find yourself here once more."_

 _My lips tightened into a bloodless line. My fury was unutterable. Resentment curdled my gut. "Why did you bring me here." It hurt. The shinsoo was unbearable. I was a nut in a mill, the pressure a vice about my skull. Baam had wandered here effortlessly, hadn't he? I was back among them, those chosen by God._

 _Thinking his name didn't even hurt these days._

He looked scared, as he walked. Oh Baam, you should know better. Didn't I tell you, I was always right? Believe me Baam, trust me when I say you're going to a better place. A place that will love you, and you can love in turn.

 _The long chuckle tore me from my circular thoughts, the mocking amusement plastered on the freak's features worrying._

 _"_ _I?" His eyes slid around, pinballs rolling over to focus on my pinched face. "I did nothing."_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _Poor child." The way his smile turned ugly put lie to any such fondness. "You haven't even realized?"_

 _What?_

 _"_ _You wished. You wished with all your heart."_

 _"_ _I wished for_ ** _stars_** _."_

 _"_ _You did, for a time. But then, you wished for something_ ** _else_** _, did you not."_

 _I crushed the seed of terror, the sudden wild screaming in my mind, the burst of thoughts sent wild in frenetic fear and hope._

And yet, his hand still reached for mine. Oh, innocent child. You should know better. If only you could see. If only you knew.

But you never would. I ensured that.

 _"_ _You're lying."_

 _I wish I could say that I'd hid the tremble im my voice, but Headon's laughter made sure I couldn't. Ah, how I detested this creature. How I hated it, it's vitriol, it's desire to prey on my weakness and hopes, the way it sunk it's claws into my mind. I knew I needed it's answers, and it knew it too. It had me, and now it would toy with me._

I would never earn forgiveness. I would never be able to look myself in the eye ever again. I'd wiped it all away, of course, and damned myself in the process. I'd hoped to undo my mistakes, but all I'd done was force myself to live with them.

Forever.

 _I bit my lip, the blood popping into my mouth, the sharp pain my only stability._

 _"_ _It can't be." I said hoarsely. Tears trembled at the corner's of my eyes. This was the cruelest joke in the world, and even knowing that I still hoped with all my heart._

Wasn't it sad? Even here, at the end and beginning of all things, I thought of myself.

Baam mouthed the words I knew he wished to say.

I wished I could go with him. I knew all the best people, extracted knowledge of the secret paths from that damnably smug guide, I could guide him, lead him to the top.

I spoke freely, expressed my wish at long last. My second chance.

And why I could never do it. No child would ever grow, coddled and swathed. It seemed like only yesterday, that Baam had finally questioned the world of his own volition. I knew then, I could never turn away.

I had to let him go. He wouldn't die, and perhaps more than that I wasn't meant to know.

No ending was ever truly the last of it, after all. I may have undone my actions, but I hadn't erased them.

So I'd prove it. I'd show the damned Guardian. I'd prove my little champion was the strongest, and that I could grow beyond him. And he beyond me.

I'd leave my fate in his hands. I'd allow Baam to judge. The rabbit would tell him what I'd done, and then he'd have years and years to grow old beyond measure. Any lingering parental affection would be long gone. He'd be able to finally see me with clear eyes. The way he once had, so long ago.

I'd allow him to be my judge, jury, and executioner. I'd die, alone in this cave, if he found me irredeemable. Perhaps I'd never even find out.

There was only one objective truth to this world, after all.

"Everything in the world is at the top of the tower, Baam."

Including my answer. So go, my little champion, all grown up. Look upon the world with clear eyes, and act boldly.

Live free. / _Goodbye Baam._

 **Fin**


End file.
